


The Letter

by Bluepanther



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Except James and Zilpha of course, Gen, I love Lorna, Implied/Referenced Suicide, No Solid Relationships, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepanther/pseuds/Bluepanther
Summary: Lorna's train of thought when she discovers James brooding after reading Zilpha's note.





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> So I just had to key-smash this one out after watching the season finale. That scene with Lorna and James after he finds out about Zilpha was just... So Good! The dialogue is taken from the show.  
> Please excuse the awful formatting!

       “James! James, I’ve got the safe passage!” Lorna Bow strode into the gloomy house triumphantly, papers clutched in hand. Where was the bastard? She poked her head into the living room.

       James was slouched in his usual moldy chair, stock still and staring. Nothing too out of the ordinary, usually, but today was the day they were sailing, and she had expected some activity.

       “What are you doing? We should be leaving.”

      Not even a grunt. Lorna came closer, but it wasn’t until she saw the glint of a tear-track down his cheek that she realized something was wrong. A sudden sinking--only one thing would make James Delaney cry. He was staring at a piece of paper on the table as if it were a poisonous insect, or some dead thing dredged out of the mud. With growing dread, Lorna picked it up. A quick skim was all she needed.

       “If she were dead I would know it” he rasped suddenly, chewing on the finger of his glove.

       She was at a loss.

       “I would hear her. I would feel it. If she were in the river... she would sing to me. And I would hear her.” If anything he seemed puzzled rather than devastated, but she could sense the anguish roiling under the surface like a trapped beast.

       Lorna glanced at him, feeling a flutter of concern. “Her words are very certain.”

       James shifted, another tear cutting through the grime on his face. “How did I not know?”

       “Because the dead don’t sing,” she responded, feeling her heart ache for him in his lunacy. Did he truly believe he would know?

There was a moment of silence. She pressed a hand to her eyes. Poor, trapped Zilpha, a bird caged by those cruel enough to love her. Lorna could only hope, deep down, that the bird had found her freedom.

       Delaney was still chewing on his glove, a half-perplexed, half-disbelieving look plastered to his normally impassive face. “If they don’t sing, then how... do I hear them?” His voice broke.

It was an honest question, and when she turned to look at him he was staring up at her with plaintive desperation, as if she held the key to the riddle that had plagued him for years.   

       Delaney was already mad, hopelessly so, but now she began to wonder if the death of his beloved sister hadn’t submerged him too deeply. She plopped down in the chair next to him and tried to direct his mind towards something else. “That is a question to be asked and answered in America, is it not?”

       No response. He had shut himself off, staring into nothing, eyes filled with tears.

       She tried again. “Tide’s rising. You’ve got lots of people waiting for you. People who’ve given up everything for you, James. The tide’ll ebb, she’ll still be gone. The tide won’t bring her back.”

       He groaned and sank deeper into his chair.

       Lorna glanced at him out of corner of her eye. She could see him starting to shut the doors that kept him isolated from humanity, one by one, defenses built up in Africa. If he succeeded, she feared he’d revert to the state Mr. Brace had muttered about: wild-eyed, feral, speaking in strange languages and disappearing for days on end.

Well, he better not lose himself completely to grief this time, or all the tedious plans they had orchestrated would go to horse-shit.

She knew that if they stayed in London, it would kill him. Memories of Zilpha would bring nothing but pain, and--regardless of how _he_ felt about it--she did not particularly want James Delaney to follow his sister into the Thames. For both of their sakes, he needed to get a hold of himself.

       She dredged up the actress in her and went for brusqueness. Maybe if she could ignite some of that anger... “You know, we could just sit here all day in these rotting chairs in this shitty house, and die like rats--like your father.”

       James covered his face and she could see him struggling to hold in his tears. Damn it all, she thought, poor bastard. Maybe, just maybe, if she could rouse him, they could travel to the one place on the map where he could find some peace, or at least some answers.  

“We ought to go to Nootka. Anything. It’s a fine day to die at sea.”

        _That_ got a reaction, at long last. James glanced up as he considered her proposal, then wiped his eyes and stood, swaying slightly. _Only death,_ Lorna thought wryly, _could pull James Delaney from death._

       His eyes skirted around her. “I have some unfinished business to take care of,” he grunted hoarsely, limping towards the door. “I’ll be back.” Then, almost an afterthought, “We’ll board together.”

       That was about as close to a ‘thank you’ as one could expect from James Keziah Delaney. Lorna couldn’t help but crack a smile. They were on their way.  

 


End file.
